


A Funeral Etiquette

by sentenza



Category: Gomorra - La Serie | Gomorrah (TV) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Camorra, Car Sex, Established Relationship, Infidelity, Italian Mafia, Italian to English, Italy, M/M, Missing Scene, Naples, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage Sex, Translated by the original author, Translation, sorta - Freeform, spoilers for s03e01, top!Genny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentenza/pseuds/sentenza
Summary: (SPOILERS FOR THE BEGINNING OF THE THIRD SEASON, AHOY!)First episode of the third season. Gennaro helps Ciro to get his vengeance on Malammore, the de facto killer of his young daughter, Maria Rita. His vendetta completed, the man asks his friend to take him to the airport where they exchange their goodbyes.





	A Funeral Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously set in a slightly different AU from canon. All the dialogues in italics are taken straight from the episode.

_~ a funeral etiquette ~_

 

 

With all the places he could have asked me to drive him to, it had to be fucking here, didn't it? How about a nice safe house in the suburbs or a quiet condo near the sea? Or up north in Rome, with me... No, none of that.

A fucking airport, that's where he wanted to go!

Goddammit, this car is like a fucking tuna can. My ass is off the backseat not even by half and my knees are already smashed against the back of the driver's one. -Nh, get just a bit lower.- he pants hotly in my ear, trying to scoot forward with his knees and get back on my cock that keep slipping out, in this midgets car.

I should have taken the white BMW, that one even has tinted windows, I think irritatedly slowly sliding to the side and putting one of my feet almost on the gear shift. What a fucking hysterical joke would be to get away with popping a cap on three dudes just to get caught for indecent exposure.

Now that he has some space to work with he is starting to gain some speed, but his riding stays sluggish and fitful, I have to brace him with my arms and cup his ass with my hands to keep him stable and in position. He is exhausted, probably hasn't slept or eaten in days... Or showered and got a change of clothes, I'd bet by the state he is in. -Ah, yeah, like that... You're so good to me, babe... So fucking good.- I groan, sinking my face in the sweaty curve of his neck. He sure as hell does not smell like roses, but still... There's something, in the way he smells, that makes my nostrils flare and my mouth water. Something like sincerity, I guess, biting an exposed clavicle and bucking my hips so hard that he almost bangs his head against the roof of the car.

Ciro has always been such a vain creature, I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I haven't seen him perfectly shaven, dressed and perfumed. He was of those men that love to bathe in their aftershave. Getting even a whiff of his natural smell, the real one, has always been almost impossible, so I guess I'll have to take all I can get now, when I can. Imprint it in my memory and have it be enough for all the time that we will spend apart.

It could be months, years. Forever.

No. No, that's impossible.

We are tied to each other, destiny will surely find a way to bring him back at my side or me at his, it won't matter how many kilometers or years will divide us. And it's not to have him marked as mine even when he'll be far from me that I left a chain of hickeys around the base of his neck, nor did I refuse to use a condom to leave a piece of myself inside him that he won't be able to remove easily. I want him to feel my slickness between his cheeks for all the time he will have his ass seated on that plane that is carrying him fuck knows where. And I want him to be thinking of me, the next time he will have the chance to hit a shower.

This ain't a goodbye.

I just know it.

I detach my face from his skin just long enough to place my open mouth at the side of his neck, where I feel his jugular beat. I have barely slicked the skin with my tongue when one of his hands leaves the edge of the backrest to tangle in the hair at the end of my mohawk and pull. -No, Genna'...- he whines plaintively. He has never permitted me to leave any visible mark. To tell the truth, as long as Deborah was in the picture, he never permitted me to leave marks on him at all. God knows what I would have given to be able to cover his ass and thighs in purple bitemarks, to leave the livid imprint of my hands on his hips, to suck a wine-red kiss at the back of his neck. And would have doubled that still to wear the red tracks of his fingernails on my back, or the crescent of his teeth on my chest.

I'll have to be satisfied with what he his allowing me.

One of my hands leaves his ass and goes to the front of his shirt, making a couple of buttons pop with a savage yank and freeing the virgin skin of his shoulder. I pounce on it like a starving animal. The fingers still holding onto my hair get gentler, sweeter, so I let go of his shirt and allow my open palm to land on his naked tight, enjoying the feeling of his muscles contracting and relaxing following the rhythm of his riding.

I always liked to touch him where the flesh is softer, thighs, belly, hips and also chest, when he gained some weight, even though I know he is bothered by that. It makes him feel like a woman, he had confessed to me years ago, his lovely face red with shame and anger. My answer was what caused our first real fight, so serious that punches where thrown and I had not slept for a week, terrified of what he could have told my father just to get back at me.

Pretty retarded of me, right? Since back then I was eighteen and he was almost twenty-eight and if my father had even had the slightest inkling of what was really going on, Ciro would have been a dead man in a matter of hours. Especially had the old man known that, the first time we fucked, I had just turned sixteen. Though I was drunk and also pretty high, I remember it like it happened this morning. It had been me to back him up in a dark corner of the smoky club, stick my tongue down his throat and tell him that, if he ever tattled, I would have put a bullet between his eyes. It's weird, but whenever I thought back at that night, I always had the feeling that it had been him, in some way, to push me to do it.

It had not been my fist time ever, but it sure as hell had been the first time I ever busted my nuts inside of someone, lasting barely three embarrassing minutes and averting my eyes when he had to finish on his own.

Saying that we had an “open relationship”, back then, would be a stretch.

In fact, even saying we had “a relationship” would be, I could fuck all the chicks I wanted and he was already married to Deborah. Even though I suspect he slipped Rosario a piece of ass, from time to time, the only exclusivity I had ever insisted on had been that he did not let any other man fuck him. He had essentially kept me by the balls since I had left for Honduras. After that I had changed, and so had he. Getting fucked in the ass by a kid is different from getting fucked by a man, I guess.

But, to be fair, it might have also been my fault if things had spiraled down the toilet that fast, after I came back. He had came to me, told me that he had missed me and then, unbelievably, he had started a kiss. That had almost been a first. In the previous eight years he had rarely initiated something, behaving instead like he was doing me a favor by letting me “vent my feelings” on him.

That's probably why I had answered to his kiss by taking out a gun and have him suck me off from under my father's desk.

He had always been pretty stingy with his mouth.

That had been the moment when things had broken irreparably between us, and yet my blood still runs hot like lava every time I think about it. This one makes no difference. I grab him by the hips and let his ass smack noisily against my thighs, feeling my balls starting to contract and draw up.

How I missed all of this. Having the full package, skin slapping skin and all that, the last time we met was months ago, in Rome, just before my wedding. All I was able to do had been to aggressively jerk him off trapping him against the side of my suv, after he had refused to congratulate for my wedding. It had not been simple to just leave him there, all messed up, in the middle of the street at night and drive away with a raging boner tenting the front of my trousers.

All this memories must really be firing me up because he lets his forehead fall against the top of the backrest with a gutted moan, like I just pushed it out of him sinking my cock deep, or like I just ruptured something. Quite possible, since all we used was my spit and even if my dick gets real wet spewing out precum like there's no tomorrow each time, I'm starting to feel what will surely be one bitch of a carpet burn on my wang. If I'm hurting he must be hurting too, and even though the idea of him feeling me for days makes my toes curl, the fact that I'm causing him pain gives me no pleasure. It never has. But stopping is not an option, so I guess I'll have to hurry the fuck up.

I get my mouth off of him and squeeze him against myself as hard as possible with both of my arms, starting to really ram it home with my teeth clenched. -Tell me when you're about to cum, 'kay?- I growl in his reddened ear, we are both dressed for a funeral, a white stain would stand out like a fly on a wedding cake.

It has always drove me crazy that he is able to cum by just taking it up the ass. Not in every position, tho'. We are pretty lucky that riding dicks has always hit his sweet spot just right, there ain't many things you can do in a car, in the middle of a parking lot in full daylight.

-You like it?- I ask him breathlessly. I just can not keep my mouth shut when I fuck. -You like it, hon'? It does not matter where you ngh... fuck off to. Got it? No one... No one will ever plow your sweet ass like I do.-

-Uh, no... No one.-

That's weird.

He almost never answers when I talk dirty to him. -I wish I could have fucked you on top of the body of that piece of shit Malammore, ngh! Inside... God! On top of that old bastard of my father's coffin!-

-Harder, Genna'...-

Better if I just concentrate on making him shoot his load, before I start babbling some really excessive stuff. It seems like Ciro and I are on the same page, here, because he just grabs my face and plugs my mouth with his tongue. The feeling of soft beard stubble against mine is really strange, and the short hair prickling my palm at the back of his head are even stranger. I always missed having some hair to pull when we were together but, to be fair, unkept like this he looks ten years older. Keeping two different rhythms, one with my mouth and one with my hips, is getting increasingly difficult and, absurdly, the lazy motion of our tongues seems to be winning, making my thrusts slow down to a cant. I'd love to just tonguefuck 'till we cum, but there's really no time. I stop kissing, limiting myself to just press our open mouths together, almost like we are giving each other some form of erotic CPR, and bending over with him still held firmly to my chest. I almost end up laying Ciro over the handbrake.

-Ngh! Oh!-

Must have hit something good.

-'M about to... !- I'm ready before he tries to warn me. I got a tissue from a pocket, it's used but for what it will need to do is more than fine. Sticking my hand between us I let him cum in there being careful not to drip anything on our clothes, then scrunch it up and put it back in my pocket. I'll throw it away later.

Maybe.

-Move it...- he sighs, face flushed and eyes watering, so I get a better grip crossing both my arms over is back, hunker down and start thrusting with the sole goal of shooting my load as deep inside as it can go.

Guess I'm taking too long for his tastes, 'cause suddenly I feel his hole clench all over my cock and I'm a goner. Every spurt is underlined by a strangled grunt from me and a satisfied murmur from him. Wow, I was really packing some. With Azzurra ready to pop anytime, sex had become a scarce commodity this days for me. It takes some time and it almost became painful because of how thick and full it feels but, when I'm done, I still won't let him go, keeping him laying on my legs, my arms around him and my dick plugging his ass.

Dragging my forehead against his dark shirt to dab some of the sweat making my eyes sting, I lift my face from his heaving chest to take a look at him. Still got it, I think with a twinge of satisfaction. His eyes are closed and his mouth open, making him look vulnerable in a way he never really is and I can't help myself from leaning forward just enough to brush my chapped lips against his cheek, right under his lashes where a dark halfmoon makes him look impossibly pale. My right hand moves upward, from his back to the head to better hold him up and where I can graze the pretty silver hoop at his left ear with my calloused thumb.

-Want a cigarette... - he sighs, eyes still shut.

Disentangling ourselves ain't easy, mainly because we did not take the time to take off our pants, choosing to just lower mine to midthigh and his to the ankles. It takes a couple of seams popping and some cussing to maneuver him off my flagging dick and on the back seat, and then squeezing past the frontseats to finally land my ass behind the wheel. Leaning over with a grunt I open the glovebox to get the half-full packet of cigs I know is there and, without turning, hand it to Ciro in the back. It's his favorite brand. I don't smoke, and even if I did, sure as fuck would not smoke those but, sometimes, when I'm alone in the car and I need to think over some stuff, I light one and just let it burn out slowly between my fingers. He finishes doing up his belt, takes the packet and exits without a word.

Heaving a sigh I drag my palm over my sweaty face and watch him light up a nail and pocket the rest from the corner of my eye. My fingers linger just for a second longer on the scar on my cheek and then I jerk the rearview mirror towards me, just enough to fix my hair and distract myself from his silhouette, dark and lonely, against the bright backdrop of the horizon.

I wanna join him, but we really need some time apart to simmer down. Fuck, I should have dropped the turtleneck before having a go at him, my neck feels like a swamp.

I check my phone, just to give my brain something easy to do. No missed calls, just one message from Azzurra that I scroll listlessly, all the time keeping an eye on the rapidly diminishing cigarette. I'm sure that, as soon as he will have reached the filter, he'll leave and I still have to decide if I want to tell him something, anything, before he fucks off somewhere. Maybe it's better like this. No goodbyes, no meaningless small talks or useless crap.

A clean brake, like a machete cleaved bone.

He still has a couple of drags left and I'm already out of the car. So much for all that macho crap, eh? At least I manage to not take more than a couple of steps toward him. I watch him lift the butt to his cracked lips one last time and then let it fall in front of the railing between him and a four-stories jump. It's still smoldering, but he does not step on it, he just turns his head to watch it roll away while slowly making his way over to me.

_-Where will you go, now?-_

~~Nowhere, right?~~

_-I don't know.-_

~~I do, back to Rome with me. You and me, together we can take over all of Italy.~~

_-I killed my daughter, too. I have to pay for what I've done.-_

~~Bullshit, you did nothing wrong. It wasn't your fault, stay and I'll prove it to you.~~

He watches me keeping my mouth shut for one, two, three heartbeats, then lowers his eyes and walks past me, toward the door just behind my back

 _-Ciru'!-_ I shout, making him turn to look at me, with his hands sunk in his pockets and his eyes sunk in his face. I can't let him leave like that! I have to tell him something, anything... !

~~Don't go.~~

~~Don't you leave me too.~~

~~Will you come back?~~

~~We'll see each other again.~~

~~What will be of me, without you?~~

~~I love you.~~

He turns and walks on, disappearing in the thick shadow beyond the door. With a deafening hiss a plane flies over my head and I turn, because I can't stand to look.

 

_. the end ._

 


End file.
